


Enthrall

by cruxcantare



Series: Mixed Messages [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Blowjobs, Kayfabe Compliant, Light Bondage, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruxcantare/pseuds/cruxcantare
Summary: In continuity with Dissonance. Dean Ambrose hates AJ whole, but broken? Dean’s not sure what to make of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toxic_ell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxic_ell/gifts).



> You really only have to know that Dean and AJ have a sexual understanding to get this, so you don’t really have to read Dissonance, but it’s the full-fledged smut of the two pieces so I’ll leave that choice to you. Post TLC, spanning the Smackdowns from 12/6-12/20.

The last time Dean had seen AJ Styles, the other man was leaving his hotel room in nothing but a pair of jeans. While Dean offered another round, AJ hadn’t taken him up on it, and Dean found himself waiting for Tuesday to continue their conversation. Dean doesn’t deal well with wanting: he scratches his itches until they bleed, he consumes anything he hungers for past a healthy point, he keeps reaching out for a narcissist who’s ruined his professional life on more than one occasion.

But Dean knows what he wants, and he takes it, consequences be damned.

Dean’s no longer sure what he wants when Tuesday finally comes.

The boot on AJ’s leg makes his breath catch. He’s stunned by it, stunned into following AJ’s steps toward the back. He thinks back, trying to remember if AJ had limped Sunday night. Dean had kissed every bruise on his skin, he thinks he would’ve noticed if AJ had hurt his leg. But there AJ is. Hurt. Unable to compete.

Dean’s easily able to catch up with the normally faster man. His fingers wrap around AJ’s wrist, lifting his arm.

“I already told ya, I don’t need…”

AJ twists his head, eyes widening at the sight. Whoever he thought he was talking to, it surely wasn’t Dean.

A sigh. “If you’re gonna attack me, get it over with.”

“If I wanted to attack you, I could’ve caught you a long time ago. Put your arm around my neck.”

“Dean, m’fine.” AJ pulls his hand away and Dean lets him, not wanting to make AJ fall. Dean still walks alongside him though, watching to figure out how true his statement was. AJ’s head keeps turning back, eyeing Dean, before the other man sighs again. “Dean.”

“Did I do this?”

“ _No_ , your friend out there did.”

Fucking sarcasm.

“Is it a… you know…” Trying to find the right words to ask. Dean isn’t normally this tongue tied, but there’s a lot that isn’t normal about this.

“It’s my ankle.”

“Yeah, okay, but uh… is it a, you know…” Dean’s eyes dart around the hall for a moment, before whispering. “Sex injury?”

AJ shoves him, the heel of his hand catching Dean in the ribs. An ache from Sunday flares, and Dean wraps his arms around his midsection.

“Are you insane?” AJ hisses. He looks around as well, as if to find the eavesdroppers and the gossips that Dean couldn’t find. There are a couple people talking in this hall, but Dean doesn’t think they’re paying attention to them. “No. It’s from the damn match. And if that’s why you won’t leave me alone, you can forget it.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

No. Dean refuses to do what AJ is asking him to do. An act of kindness doesn’t necessarily merit some deep introspection.

“I thought you Christians were all about good Samaritans.”

“That’s what you think you are?” AJ snarls the answer.

“HEY!”

They both look up at the same time. Dean didn’t expect to see Karl Anderson run toward them, calling attention to their little talk. He’s not on this brand; he should be home on his days off. He does expect a hit though, stepping away before Karl can get one in. Karl doesn’t step toward him anymore, rather wrapping his arm around AJ’s back. AJ allowing Karl to help him in a way he’d refused to let Dean.

“He’s injured, jackass, buzz off.”

Dean feels a pang in his chest. Unbidden, he remembers how things were before, with Seth and Roman. As Karl helps AJ away, Dean remembers how Seth had betrayed him, the weird distance between him and Roman now that they’re on separate brands. Karl and AJ were too, yet here’s Karl when AJ needs him. Dean had friends like that once.

No. Not once. Roman’s still his best friend, and Seth… well, maybe what he and Seth had was never real. The last time he felt this lonely, he’d just found AJ and fucked him until he could stop thinking.

Well, whiskey doesn’t mess up its ankle.

***

Next Tuesday, Dean finds himself compelled to do something else.

A simple call tells him that AJ’s still out, even if he’s out of the medical boot, and suddenly Dean has a thick shopping bag in the seat next to him in the rental. He ties the two handles together with a rubber band, hitting his head and trying not to ask himself questions. This, too, is just an itch, something he’ll cleanse from his system once AJ’s back on his feet.

Just an itch.

No more questions, no more thought.

Twenty dollars to an underappreciated desk clerk, asking that she deliver the bag to AJ’s room, and it’s out in the world. What’s done is done.

***

It’s near three AM when Dean hears the heavy thumping against his door. Bang, bang, bang, bang…

Dean’s not satisfied with how the night went, but whiskey is a fine companion to drown that feeling out. Paired with a supreme pizza and whatever this movie was on HBO, the night was almost passable. He’s not sure what’s happening on the television; there’s barely a drop of Evan Williams left in the bottle and it’s still resting on his bare belly.

Dean hopes that’s not Ellsworth coming to apologize again. At this point, Dean thinks he’s done pretending with people; everything that he needs, he can get himself. With a groan, he forces himself up, putting the empty bottle down on the empty pizza box on the floor. He’s only wearing white briefs and he’s not sure he cares to cover up. A hand down his briefs, scratching mindlessly as he walks to the door and looks through the peephole.

 _Oh_.

Dean straightens, opening the door. There’s AJ, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a tee, barefoot. There’s compression wrap around his ankle, a visual reminder that AJ’s not as all right as he seems. His eyes go higher, to AJ’s hands. Holding the heavy shopping bag. If AJ’s bothered by Dean’s state of dress, he doesn’t let on, instead lifting the bag so Dean can look at it.

“Wha’s this?”

A little slur in his words. Dean’s not the only one who’s been drinking tonight.

“A… bag?”

“Don’t play dumb. Even if yer crappy taste in booze wasn’t a dead giveaway…” AJ pulls out a half drunk bottle of Evan Williams. Dean notes the popped seal, and the way AJ’s talking with a little smile. The bottle dips back into the bag, and AJ feels around, telling Dean that everything he bought is still in there. He knows what AJ’s other clue is, even before he fishes it out of the bag. “…there’s also a pack of flavored rubbers.”

“There’s ribbed in there too. Her pleasure.”

“What’s your deal? This funny to you?”

Dean shrugs. “You’re the one who came to my room with whiskey and rubbers.”

AJ shoves the bag into Dean’s chest. A little oof escapes his lips. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

“Oh no no, this is your gift, take it…” Dean holds his arms out, refusing to take the bag. The condoms and the whiskey seemed funny at the time. A way to keep him from thinking about everything else he’d brought for AJ.

“Dean.”

“AJ.”

“Take it.”

“It’s yours.”

AJ pushes past him, into the room. Dean watches from the door as AJ tosses the bag onto the bed, a little bounce before it settles on its side.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a bottle of Evan Williams…”

“I’ll give ya your stupid nine dollars if you care that much.” AJ points at the bag. “That… that was not funny. You need to stop messin’ with me.”

“I’m not…”

“Oh?!” AJ heads to the bed, sitting on the edge, and Dean watches as he empties the bag. Along with the whiskey and the condoms, there were three ice packs. A roll of compression tape, unopened. A pound of Epsom salt in a carton. Tiger balm. “What is this?”

Dean eases the door closed behind him. AJ doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re terrible at thank yous.”

“Why did you do this?”

There’s that question again, why, and Dean refuses to answer it. “You know.” He walks closer to the bed, to AJ. AJ’s eyes follow his every step. He reaches his arm out, over AJ, grabbing a pillow. “Sitting like that is _terrible_ for your ankle. If we’re arguing, least you can do is prop your foot up.”

Dean holds the pillow out to AJ. He studies it as if Dean could poison a pillow.

“I don’t wanna argue. I just came to give that back.”

Dean shrugs, tossing the pillow at AJ. The other man catches it quickly, and then realizes that he’s just done exactly what Dean wanted him to do. A small score over him, but a victory nonetheless. His eyes roll as Dean reaches over the bed, grasping the bottle of Evan Williams.

“You can’t give back something you’ve drunk from.”

AJ lets the pillow fall out of his hands, onto the floor. “I don’t want it.”

“Apparently you did.” Dean shakes the bottle, letting AJ hear and see the empty space. “I can’t take this home with me, so… help me finish it?”

“You have no trouble drinking…”

“You’re already here. Why make a scene for nothing?” Dean drops down onto the bed, opening the bottle. Quietly thanking AJ for coming when he did, raiding the minibar goes against all of Dean’s principles, he’s not paying markup on an already overpriced beverage. A small exhale after his first sip, before offering the bottle to AJ.

“I hate you.” Yet AJ takes the bottle, following Dean’s lead.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” How could he forget? “You really mad at my present?”

“I don’t like being messed with.” The Evan Williams is within grasp, but Dean ignores it. AJ’s insistence on second guessing everything is grating him. He thinks for a moment, hoping to catch AJ off kilter, force him to just experience whatever this night has turned into rather than ruin it.

“Never have I ever held the TNA championship.”

“What?” AJ’s eyebrows slant, forehead scrunched in momentary confusion. “Oh no, we’re not…”

“Drink, AJ.”

AJ’s quiet for a moment, contemplating. For some reason, AJ complies, taking a gulp of the whiskey. “No more pointed ones then.”

“If you feel a type of way, you can do one to me.”

“You didn’t do much professionally that I didn’t do first.”

“Go to hell."

It's a kind of comfortable that AJ usually balks at, but he falls into the game easy. Then again, for all his bluster, AJ never really _denies_ Dean, not when they're alone and no one can see what lies under all the boasts. AJ drinks what Dean offers and takes off his clothes when Dean asks…

There’s a fun idea.

AJ's not really creative at first, but the more Dean makes AJ drink... _never have I ever fucked in a pool, never have I ever sucked a dick with a condom on it, never have I ever..._ the more AJ seems to want to return the favor.

"Never have I ever had sex in public."

Dean drinks.

"Never have I ever had sex in my mother's house."

Dean stares at AJ, sure he's lying, before taking a drink. Fucking Christians, man.

"Never have I ever screwed one of my friends."

"Define screw."

"Sex. You know I mean sex."

"With my friends? I needed the clarification." Dean picks up the bottle with a shrug. "You can ask, if you want."

"You don't gotta tell me nothin'," AJ takes the bottle, "I don't need to know."

"Who would you guess?"

A head shake. "M'not guessing."

"Whatever you say." Still curious, but Dean can let it go for a while. Dean thinks for a moment. "Never have I ever, ah... fucked one of your friends. But, uh, by your, I mean the other guy on the bed's friends."

AJ slides his free hand through his hair, staring at the bottle. It was a long shot anyway. Dean reaches his hand to grab the bottle for his turn, but it slips out of his fingers as AJ brings the bottle to his mouth. AJ's drinking. Oh fuck.

"Wait, you've fucked one of my friends?"

"Wha's it look like?" AJ said. "Never have I..."

"No, wait, stop. Who?"

"That's none of yer business."

"But if I guess, you'll tell me, right?" Dean has never felt as if AJ could lie to him anyway. Too honest, his face hides nothing. AJ's problem's not that he's a liar, it's that goddamn entitlement. To Dean’s glory. "Let me think..."

AJ laughs, holding the whiskey close. "M'not telling you!" The "you" elongates, AJ almost singing it.

"I'm gonna guess." Dean looks over AJ's face, considering his friends... former friends. Not Seth. Seth probably brown nosed the hell out of AJ when they were in the same place, a young and negligible fanboy. Roman and AJ would never go for each other. An older friend maybe? But which one even knew AJ like that? "Is it BJ? Any BJs for BJ?"

"Whitmer? Oh god, no. How long you been waitin' to pull that one out?"

"I pull it out every time BJ comes up." Dean laughs, sure that he was wrong in this regard. But whom did that leave? "You know, I'm gonna keep guessing until I get it right." Dean slides in closer to AJ. "Hmm... I don't know, maybe Drake would be your type..."

"Drake?!" AJ is laughing, and Dean can't help but grin back at him. "Stop, stop, okay, I'll tell you." Despite AJ’s best attempts, he can’t bring himself to calm down. The laugh doesn't leave AJ's lips even as he tries to mimic a snarl. He puts up two fingers. Even though the imitation is poor, it's enough for Dean to get it, laughing out loud.

"Wait, really?"

AJ nods, laughing.

Dean’s head falls back, mouth open. He can’t help but picture it. "Huh. I'm eskimo brothers with..."

"Oh my god I hate you." AJ leans against the bed frame, still giggling. It's cute.

"Can I text him?" Dean pats his thighs, as if there’s a pocket there. Dean’s phone is somewhere buried in his jeans, perhaps by his pizza box.

"I'll kill ya." But AJ doesn’t look bothered. He can’t shake off the smile. Evan Williams and every single one of Dean’s guesses have him looking relaxed.

"When?"

"This isn't story time!"

There isn’t much whiskey left. A couple sips. The game forgotten, AJ takes a gulp, before passing the bottle to Dean. Dean chuckles again, considering what this turned into, before finishing it off.

“Never say I didn’t do nothin’ for ya.” AJ grabs the bed frame, trying to ease up. Without a warning, he drops back down onto the bed, blinking at his own gracelessness. The bottle falls onto the floor as Dean reaches his arm out, holding AJ’s arm. “Ow.”

At least AJ didn’t sound all that pained. More like bellyaching than actual pain. “Told ya to prop your leg up.”

Dean shifts back, to the other side of the bed, while AJ brought his legs up onto the bed. Dean passes the pillow to AJ again, and this time, he puts the pillow under his foot. The Epsom salt, the condoms, the tiger balm all go back in the bag, but Dean pauses at the ice packs. He picks one up, squeezing the two opposite sides until the bag pops, before offering it to AJ.

“Wha? Oh, thanks…”

Once he situates the ice pack on his ankle, AJ leans back on the bed. “I don’t get you.”

“Why are you trying to get me?” Dean pats AJ’s thigh. “We had a good night, AJ, don’t you go and ruin it.”

“No, I’m not tryin’ to ruin it, but…” Dean turns to look at AJ. The other man’s hand catches his before he can move it back to his side. “You did all this to get me up here, right? Why haven’t you made a move yet?”

Oh.

As much as Dean hates the insinuation, he wants to move things to where they were before. The laughter. AJ and him alluding at their sexual pasts with a bottle between them. Why does AJ have to give meaning to things that isn’t there? “Your ice pack’s kind of a boner killer.”

“You’ve been askin’ me questions about my sex life with rubbers layin’ on the bed.”

“AJ, this wasn’t some grand scheme to fuck you. I sent that bag at 11, if it took you four hours to come fuck me then that plan was a total failure.” Dean leans in, and AJ bows away from him. Like this, they’re close, but Dean can’t imagine making a move right now. Not with AJ’s ankle wrapped and under ice. “That why you drank half the bottle? Trying to figure out whether you were gonna come here for a quickie or not?”

AJ glares at him. “No. I was trying to figure out why you’d buy me goddamn Epsom salt.” The pack hits the bed as AJ swings his feet to the floor. He pushes up on his hands, getting to his feet.

“Oh come on, you don’t gotta get up.”

“M’tired of being played with.” AJ’s hand grasps the bed frame, trying to hold himself up. “That’s what this is, right? You screw me and then you pretend to be nice to me so you can…”

“Why do I have to be pretending?” Dean doesn’t mean to get loud. His body goes straight as he stares at AJ. “Hell AJ, if you prefer I kick your ass fine, but I’m not gonna do it while your ankle is wrapped.”

“What did you expect to happen?” AJ puts a hand on his head. His head shakes, before he turns back to Dean. “What’s with the damn care package?”

There it is again. Yet another why.

Dean tries to convince himself to go over, to kiss AJ, to shut him up. To fuck him like everything is normal. But that ice pack keeps catching his eye, the way AJ leans on the bed… He wants AJ to sit back down. He wants AJ to relax, to take the stress off his ankle.

AJ laughs at Dean’s inability to answer. Unlike before, this one is less joy. More vindication. “You’re a real piece of work, Ambrose.”

The sound of the door closing tells him that he won’t be able to stop thinking about _why_ all night. Why did he buy those things, why he’s so concerned, why were they both so honest with each other all night…?

***

Dean leaves the bag in front of AJ’s hotel room door. Even if it just ends up in the trash, Dean wants AJ to take it.

Stupid fucking ankle injury.

It’s not that serious, AJ’s going to wrestle soon anyway, and it still bugs him. It makes him think of this weird distance with Roman, of the dissolution of his and Seth’s friendship, of everything. Dean doesn’t do well with introspection. It lingers, festers in his mind, making it feel all the more real and immediate.

Stop thinking.

Don’t overthink.

Stupid fucking ankle injury.

That’s what it all traces back to. Everything’s been out of whack since AJ showed up in that goddamn boot, and maybe things will get back to normal once AJ’s no longer limping. Once Dean stops _thinking_.

Dean’s not sure that’s true when AJ’s eyes meet his in catering, and the other man gets up from his table. His half eaten food on a paper plate forgotten, AJ breaks the glance and walks straight to the door. Dean’s fists clench, and it takes all his willpower to keep from following AJ. It’s not like he doesn’t know where he’s going tonight.

Dean’s tired of the overreactions, the little panics. They’d both be so much better off if they stopped thinking.

At night, he drinks in the parking lot again, waiting to see AJ’s car. That’s how this implosion went last time, Dean waiting and offering whiskey and that stupid little fake calm they manage to create as they both get ready to attack one another. This time, Dean’s got nothing to fake. He doesn’t want AJ to drink at all.

Dean’s out of the car when AJ begins to walk to the hotel. His steps fall in line with AJ’s. AJ’s hair is in a bun, his head is down, his bag dragging behind him. AJ looks Dean’s way, the figure not registering at first. A double take, and AJ snarls.

“What?”

“How’s your ankle?”

“Good enough to wrestle on thanks.”

“You call that wrestling?”

It catches AJ's attention. He stops at the door, turning to Dean. “What?”

“What, you punching Ellsworth? I mean, not exactly the AJ Styles five star classic…”

“No, you. What do you want?” When Dean doesn’t respond, AJ sighs. This isn't going well. “Can I go now?”

“I’m not stopping you.” Dean watches as AJ pushes the door open. “You know.” His voice raises. “If you wanted to ignore me it probably wasn’t a good idea to tell me who else you’ve slept with.”

AJ freezes at the door. Suddenly, everything happens so quickly. AJ’s bag falls to the floor as he turns around. His hands have Dean’s collar, pulling on it, and Dean is being shoved into a column. He groans, feeling every single hit he took tonight. Fucking Luke Harper.

“You won’t tell anybody anythin’ I told you,” AJ hisses.

“Then why are you hitting me?”

“You won’t tell _anybody_.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Dean waits to be punched, for anything from the smaller man, but nothing comes. Instead, AJ lets him go, looking around. Dean does the same, not moving from his spot against the column. There’s more than a couple eyes on them. Naomi and the Usos. A desk clerk, right at the doorway, who probably came out to reason with them. A couple that Dean doesn’t recognize.

He’s not sure, but he thinks AJ says a three-digit number before heading for his bag. AJ immediately goes to the clerk, talking to him as if nothing happened. Suddenly Southern sweet. The rest of their audience is still looking at Dean.

“Show’s over, folks!”

***

Dean waits before seeing if that number is a room.

He figures AJ may need time to cool off. It was wrong of him, he knows, to bring up something AJ said while drunk. It was private, and that’s why he comes to Dean, right? Discretion. And Dean implied he would reveal it.

Dean should apologize. He’s not sure that AJ would care for an apology. Not from him, anyway.

The door opens, and instead of the apology, he says three words.

“Drake. Then Seth.”

“Huh?”

AJ hasn’t changed. He’s barefoot and Dean can see his ankle is still wrapped, but otherwise it doesn’t look like he did much. But whatever angry words Dean expected were wiped out by his words.

“I slept with Drake. Multiple times, before Drake found God and sobriety... I’ll be honest, he meant a lot to me. Still does. Seth… once. It was before the Shield and we both agreed it was better we pretend it didn’t happen for our friendship. Fat lot of good that did, I don’t have that particular friend anymore, but you already knew that. There. Now, mutually assured destruction, I can’t snitch on you anymore.”

AJ blinked, leaning against the doorframe. He shook his head. “Jesus Christ but you sure can tell on yourself. Get inside.”

Dean looks down the hall first. He wouldn’t mind blowing up Seth’s cover, but Drake... Drake’s got a family now, Drake deserves better. Drake never hurt Dean. Doesn’t deserve to be outed like this. Once he’s sure it’s empty, that no one heard him, he walks into the room. AJ closes the door behind him.

“What was that then? You bringin’ up my secrets?”

Dean turns to face him, shrugging. His hands slip into his pockets. Not sure how to act right now. “I didn’t think you’d talk to me.”

“So you…”

“What did you want me to do? DM you?”

“Why do you want to talk to me anyway?”

Dean knows what AJ’s expecting, and this time, he chooses not to disappoint. To make it easier for AJ to stop thinking, for both of them to stop thinking.

“I don’t want to talk.”

Dean’s hands come out of his pockets, finding AJ’s arms. His touch is soft. Walking in instead of yanking AJ, suddenly again hyper aware of his ankle. Their lips meet, and it’s much too soft to be normal.

Dean takes a breath before shoving AJ against the door. Tasting that groan in his mouth as he presses his body against AJ’s. AJ’s eyes are shut, his tongue is sliding along Dean’s, but Dean is focused on that leg. On that ankle.

Dean’s hands slide down AJ’s arms, over his hands, and then onto his thighs. He squeezes them before pulling them up. Realizing what Dean’s doing, AJ yelps, arms wrapping around Dean’s neck. His knees hug Dean’s sides once Dean has him in the air.

“I hate you.” AJ whispers as Dean carries him, back toward the bed.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

AJ does what he’s told. He kisses close like this, his hands yanking in Dean’s hair, making him gasp. When Dean drops him on the bed, he pulls him down to meet him, to kiss him deep. Off kilter, Dean manages to straddle AJ’s hips, feel some friction between them. He only breaks away when Dean starts to tug on his shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Hands,” Dean demands, and it takes AJ a moment to understand what he’s saying. Dean acts before AJ can respond, taking his right wrist into his hand, and then his left. “Is this okay?” While Dean wants this, wants to provide the rush without risking hurting AJ, he needs to hear AJ say he’s allowed.

AJ nods, and Dean grinds his hips against his. Reveling in the moan he gets.

“Yeah, do it.”

Dean carefully ties AJ’s wrists together with his shirt. He pulls it, tight, sure that AJ would tell him if it hurt. A second knot. It’s nothing impressive, and Dean’s sure if AJ really wants out, he would have no trouble getting out of the flimsy bind. “Good?” He slaps his wrists.

“Get on with it.”

Dean can’t help the smirk at that. Even when he’s not in control, AJ still acts like he is. But Dean won’t deny the other man. He settles back down, grinding against him while he hungrily kisses down his throat. His beard scratches and Dean’s not sure why he enjoys that so much. A bite to make AJ really mewl.

Dean scratches AJ’s sides, pulling away to see the red marks, before going to kiss and lick his chest. The heavy breathing is nice, the way AJ’s belly dips from contact, keeping his eyes on his body. A graze of teeth over his nipple makes AJ moan, and Dean looks up at his face when he hears the sound. AJ’s eyes are shut, the other man just enjoying what Dean saw fit to give.

Smack!

“Oh!” AJ’s eyes snap open as Dean’s hand came down on his side again. That’s better. “Jesus, Dean!”

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Dean teases. One more slap before kissing his stomach. His tongue swirling on the flesh. The rush of being in control going straight to Dean’s groin.

“Don’t forget the, uh…” Dean bites down on his hip. He wants to make AJ moan again.

“I’m not doin’ that tonight,” Dean looks up, grinning at him. “But you might want one when it’s your turn.”

“What?”

AJ will know soon enough. Dean instead focuses on getting those jeans off. He unbuckles his belt, slowly going to the button.

“What’s your game, Ambrose?”

Once he’s got the zipper down, he slides his hand over that clothed erection. “When’s the last time you got laid, AJ?” He inches his pants down, biting his cheek as AJ’s hips slightly swing. “Jesus get something tighter, why don’t you?”

“Fit too big on my waist otherwise.” He’s right—once the jeans clear his hips, the rest is easy. The denim lands on the floor, and Dean reaches for his boxers this time.

“When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Come on Dean, you already know…”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“That Sunday. I hear the ice pack’s a boner killer.”

Dean chuckles, rewarding AJ by pulling his boxers down. Getting him naked. AJ’s half hard and Dean has no doubt he’ll be more than ready when he gets there.

“You gonna take off your clothes?”

Dean didn’t think about his clothes until AJ mentioned them. “In my time." His cock presses against his jeans and the only thing keeping him from stripping is the fear that once naked, he won't be able to stop himself. It's been three weeks and Dean's wanted him since then, a desire mixed with whatever strange fucking cloud descended over him when AJ got injured.

His hands slide over AJ's thighs, caressing them, before forcing them apart. This time, pressing hungry kisses along his thighs. Open mouthed, swirling his tongue on the flesh. AJ's thighs shake and he moans out in need. Dean takes that as a cue to bite his thigh, suck on it. Bitten nails pressing into his flesh. Lucky AJ wears those tights, because Dean's not sure he'll be satisfied until AJ's thighs are littered with bruises.

"Just give me your mouth..."

Dean bites, this time closer to his balls. A nice hickey right on that meaty thigh. He's sure AJ would love to yank his head up, guide him to take more, and Dean has to look up. His tongue slides over his balls as he watches. AJ's wrists press into his bind, his hands clenching and unclenching, but AJ isn't truly trying to fight out and take control. Playing along with Dean's fantasy. AJ was always demanding, no matter if he was playing the dominant or the submissive role in their games.

Dean loves that about him.

He doesn't know where that came from.

Dean squeezes AJ's thighs again, hard, making him cry out. His tongue broad as it swipes up and down AJ's erection. He likes feeling the way AJ trembles, the sounds coming out of his mouth. That’s more like it. It’s so easy to just be in the moment when AJ’s naked and he’s got his salty taste on his tongue.

Dean spits on AJ’s cock before taking it into his mouth, sucking hard. His head bobs, his hands keeping AJ from thrusting up. Each moan going straight to his crotch, and Dean wishes he’d taken off his jeans when AJ asked. But the discomfort has him in the moment as well. His turn when it’s his turn; right now, it’s AJ’s.

And AJ’s moaning his name.

“Dean…”

His mouth slides further down, choking a little. Focusing on wiping out the last three weeks, on every single misgiving and confusion AJ has ever had about the two of them. Saliva coats Dean’s lips. It’s messy but Dean’s not sure he cares, not when AJ looks and sounds the way he does. One hand moves off AJ’s thigh, Dean’s nails leaving red divots in his flesh. Dean doesn’t take this slow either, playing with AJ’s balls for a moment, massaging them, before going for his real target. Finger pressing into AJ’s ass.

“God, Dean…”

Dean doesn’t stop fingering him when he tastes his come. Letting AJ ride it out, slowing down as AJ’s body begins to relax. As Dean pulls away, gives AJ room to breathe, he realizes just how messy he is. Slobber and come on his lips, on his chin. Maybe AJ’s onto something with the whole condom thing.

“You look good like that.”

Dean slaps his thigh, and AJ just lets out a breathy laugh.

“For that, you get to wait like this for me.”

Dean hadn’t planned on untying AJ anyway, but he has no problems pretending this is some kind of punishment for AJ rather than a present for himself.

Dean goes to the bathroom, grabbing the smallest towel. Wetting it before wiping his face. He means to be in and out quickly, but he notices the tube of Arnica cream on the sink. It’s in his hands in moments, and the fact that that it seems mostly empty makes him smile for some reason. Maybe the tiger balm isn’t in the trash can.

“You know, I might be the one tied up, but you’re the one with the tent in your pants. I don’t know why you’re makin’ me wait.”

Dean laughs at that, tossing the towel on the floor… AJ’s problem, really… before going back to him. AJ still on his back, arms over his head, though his legs are closed.

“I think you broke skin.”

Dean shrugs in response. “Now, that’s a good look for you.” A breath. Half of him wants to go look over those marks, kiss them… but that’s not conducive to the talk less, fuck more environment he’s trying to make.

“Just get your clothes off already.” AJ flexes his fingers. “And you’re crazy if you think m’blowing you like this.”

“What, you wouldn’t like that? Me riding your face?”

“I mean, you can tease all you want, but I already got off.”

Dean hates to give AJ credit. He nods, taking off his shirt first. Tossing it at the bed.

“You’re a terrible stripper.”

“Bite me.” Dean’s careful with his jeans, but soon they’re around his ankles, underwear following next. “Condom?”

AJ nods toward the TV stand. “Bag.”

Dean catches sight of his bag, walking over. Really should be making AJ do this. He looks over his shoulder and sees AJ roll himself up into a seated position, arms still tied in front of him. “Should’ve tied you down to something.” AJ doesn’t respond to that. Dean opens the bag, and pauses.

There they are, right in a plastic Ziploc bag of toiletries. The condoms Dean bought him. Ribbed ones and the orange flavored ones he’d picked out just for this very moment. He’d wanted peach, wanted to tease AJ about it, but he couldn’t find any like that and he wasn’t about to go all over for a joke. As Dean opened the bag, reaching for the pack, he notices the tiger balm nestled between a soap case and a toothbrush holder. Where the bag used to be, there’s the carton of Epsom salt, folded over in a way that tells him AJ must’ve used it.

“They’re right there just get over here and untie me.”

AJ sounds like AJ, but this? Dean doesn’t understand it.

Dean gets on the bed, condom in hand. He moves on his knees over to where AJ is sitting. AJ holds out his wrists, looking at him expectantly. Dean’s hard, Dean knows what he should do. He grabs AJ’s wrist and leans in, brushing his lips against AJ’s. Slowly deepening the kiss.

“How do you want me?” Dean undoes the knot as he pulls away, talking before AJ can voice his confusion.

“Uh…” AJ blinks at Dean, and Dean does the only thing he can think to do. Take AJ’s hand and place it on his cock.

“How?”

AJ’s hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly. Oh _fuck_. Didn’t even realize how much he needs that until AJ’s hand squeezes. AJ leans in, kissing much harder now.

“Just lay down.”

A nod. Dean would probably do anything he asks at this point.

Dean’s on his back, rolling the bright orange condom over his cock. AJ carefully moves between his legs, before leaning over, just taking it into his mouth. Oh _fuck_. AJ doesn’t tease at all, instead slurping around him, the pleasure incredible after waiting so long.

“Does it taste like oranges?” Dean pants out.

AJ’s mouth doesn’t slip off at all. He looks up at him, and then raises a hand, tilting it from left to right.

“I tried.”

AJ doesn’t seem bothered. Dean can feel his tongue on the underside of his cock and he moans. AJ’s always been good at this, and he’s much too grown for Dean to have ever thought that he was AJ’s first, but knowing who else AJ’s slept with makes Dean wonder about AJ’s experience. His hands just caress Dean’s thighs, rather than the pinching Dean subjected AJ to, but he shoves when Dean thrusts up. Holds Dean against the bed.

AJ hums around him, and Dean is moaning out loud. He loves that vibration. He’s so happy AJ’s hair is tied this time too, getting a good view of AJ with his mouth full. His breath is heavy, the pleasure overwhelming. His hand goes down, shaking, touching AJ’s head. Rubbing his hair. He wants this to last, wants to enjoy AJ’s mouth, but it’s not long before he’s coming for him. His fingers grasp at AJ’s hair, tugging strands out of the rubber band.

When Dean’s caught his breath, he hears a small, “Ow.”

A chuckle, moving his hand. The hair spreads over AJ’s face.

“I don’t know how you can do the whole condom thing.”

AJ shrugs. “Being covered in spunk isn’t as good a look on me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Dean forces himself into a seated position. “One hundred percent wrong.”

“Oh shut up.” AJ pulls the rubber band out of his hair and shakes his head, letting his hair hang loose.

“Maybe next time?”

“Maybe no.”

The clean up’s much easier for AJ… hell, it’s still Dean who has to clean up. After just sitting with AJ for a while, Dean slowly forces himself onto his feet, forcing himself to the closest trash bin. Slowly rolling the condom off of himself. Maybe AJ has the right idea. While Dean cleans up after himself, AJ just gets to lie out on the bed, checking his phone.

“You know,” Dean says, not looking over at the other man, “I was never gonna tell on you anyway.”

It doesn’t take long for AJ to catch onto what he meant. “I figured. Friendship seems to mean a lot to ya.”

For a moment, Dean’s brow furrows, looking over at AJ. He’s still looking at his phone, and it hits Dean that AJ didn’t mean himself at all. That makes more sense.

“Yeah. He does.”

AJ nods at him, and Dean thinks again. About what he saw in AJ’s bag, about Karl Anderson, about the secrets they both hold for each other, about AJ giggling in his hotel room, about AJ holding out his hands for him to untie… didn’t work. None of it worked. It was supposed to go away by now.

“Dean? You all right?”

“Yeah.”

The lie comes out easily.


End file.
